The Blind Astronaut
by cats2find
Summary: The rom-com between a writer named Castiel and a mechanic called Dean who just might be in love with each other. OR: how a barista named Gabriel became cupid.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Blind Astronaut

**Rating: **T for language

**Genre/Pairing: **Complete AU, Romantic Comedy, Dean/Castiel

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to Kripke.

**Spoilers: **None

**Wordcount: **1712

**Summary: **The rom-com between a writer named Castiel and a mechanic called Dean who just might be in love with each other **_or: _**how a barista named Gabriel became cupid.

**A/N: **Writing is hard.

* * *

I

"Wool Rabbit told me you have been many things."

"I have. Even today, with my tattered holes and loose threads, I am many things."

"But how can that be when you are only a sock puppet?"

"It's all a part of who you want to be. You are only a stuffed kitten, but if you wish, you can be a pirate; an adventurer; a sailor. It is only when you wish to be that you can be many things."

"Then you have wished to be many things, other than yourself?"

"That I have." Sock Puppet replied, with its tattered holes and loose threads.

"Do you wish to be other things because you dislike yourself?"

"No," Sock Puppet said, "I wish to be many things to accept myself."

"And have you accepted yourself now, after being many things?" Stuffed Kitten asked.

"No," replied Sock Puppet, "for I have yet to be an astronaut."

- The Blind Astronaut

* * *

Dean knows he can't stay with Sam any longer.

The apartment is small; fit for only two people, not three.

Jess, being the angel that she is, arranged to share a room with Sam so Dean could have the spare; although he's pretty sure their sleeping arrangements would have been the same whether or not he was here.

But then again, there would probably be a lot more action going on in the bedroom if it wasn't for him sleeping on the other side of the wall. Honest to god, he doesn't know how they control themselves.

This was supposed to be Sam living his life, going to the university he's striven for, and being with his totally awesome girlfriend who he is so going to marry (Dean guarantees it).

Dean wasn't supposed to be in the picture, but here he is, all because of a few mistakes made back at home and the need for change.

Sam and Jess are pretty benign about him staying, but even Dean isn't that much of a dick. It's already been a month now, and he knows it's time to give the two love birds some space. (And with the school term at Stanford starting soon, living away from two sleep-deprived, bitching girls - and Sam is _totally _a girl - would probably be for the better.)

So now he needs to find a roommate somewhere because no way in hell can he afford to rent a place of his own. So far, there's no one on Dean's radar that he knows of who is willing to share a home with him.

Well, shit.

* * *

The bell jingles overhead as he enters the dimly lit café. A couple of people glance towards him, then go back to drinking their beverages and reading their books, or whatever else they were doing before he had entered the coffee house.

The café is small; cozy. The walls are a soft, honey gold, the floor consisting of wooden tiles, and a few cushiony chairs and tables littered about.

[SAINT'S COFFEE AND TEA]

Somehow, the name sits comfortably in his mind just as it had a month before when he had first come by.

"Nice to see you again, Deano!"

Dean rolls his eyes while failing miserably at trying to hide his grin as he walks up to the counter.

"The usual?"

"Yeah."

Dean leans back against the counter, looking around the café as the barista works on his drink. There aren't that many people - maybe five or six scattered about - since the afternoon rush hour's already passed.

The café is peaceful and quiet, other than the whirring of the grinder and the clacking of keyboards along with the occasional rustling of paper from a page turning in a book.

Now that he pays closer attention, Dean realizes that everyone is either using a laptop or one of those huge ass screen things Sam claimed to be a tablet or some shit - except for one man sitting near the counter, completely absorbed in his book.

His hair is cropped short and dark brown; mussed all over like fucking sex hair. And Dean isn't much of a poetic person, (never was and never will be) but god damn, his face _had _to have been sculpted by the gods because there was no way in hell someone could look _that _attractive. The pair of large, black glasses, (that would have made anyone else deflate in appearance) only made him look adorable and more becoming.

… And Dean was definitely _not _checking the guy out.

Nope. He was just observing… with his eyes.

He reluctantly looks away from the oblivious man and back towards the barista, who is done with his drink and is writing his name on the sleeve in big, blocky letters.

"So, what brings you here today?" The barista asks, sliding the cup of Americano towards Dean.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout, Gabe."

"Aw, c'mon, Deano!" Gabriel rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. "You and I both know you only stop by when you're in some sort of trouble because you can't drown out your feelings at the bar at this time of the day."

Dean merely groans in response, turning slightly so he can lean back on the counter. There aren't any costumers, as far as Dean can see, who need to order, so Dean dives right in and talks about needing a place to live in and _fast_ because he sure as hell doesn't need to be the one at fault for Sam and Jess's sexual tension.

Gabriel gives a huff of laughter in reply, which honestly, Dean doesn't think is necessary because the situation is not amusing at all, thank you very much. But Gabriel's always been a bit of a dick, so Dean just gives another groan, slouching further back in despair.

"Well, good thing you came to me to fix your lil' ol' problem."

Dean perks up, turning his head to give a quizzical look, silently urging Gabe to go on.

"Lil' bro's been looking for a roommate because prices are rising and there's only so much he can pay," the barista shrugs nonchalantly as he leans over the counter.

"Seriously?"

"Yup. He doesn't really care who he stays with since his rent's almost due and he's seriously short on cash. So far, no one's come around, so you can probably stay with him."

Dean really doesn't know what to say. This almost seems too good to be true, and okay, maybe Gabriel isn't _that _much of a dick.

"And don't worry, he's the clean freak in the family, so hygiene's all good. Even Kali doesn't mind going over from time to time and she's crazy about keeping things spotless. I don't even know how I survive with her nagging at me everyday."

Dean huffs out a laugh in response, before straightening up.

"So… can I have his number or something?"

"_Or_," a slight pause (which Dean really doesn't think is essential, but this _is _Gabriel) "You can just talk to him in person."

"What?"

"He's here you know."

Gabriel gives a small smirk and leans forward, looking past Dean and at the -

_Oh hell no._

"Hey Cas. Cassie! Cas," a sigh of actual exasperation, "_Yes, you. _Come over here."

Dean's frozen in place as the super-attractive-book-man, who's name is apparently Cas, walks towards them.

He stops next to Dean, the two of them standing awkwardly side by side.

"You still need a roomie, right?"

Cas gives a curt nod in response to his brother, and _holy shit, _the way his adam's apple slightly moves with the movement of his neck is fucking _hot._

"Well, congratulations! Deano here needs a place to stay; preferably with a flatmate."

Cas turns towards Dean and _god be damned, _there's no way in hell someone's eyes can be _that _blue.

"Castiel Milton," the other man introduces himself as he puts out his hand in greeting.

"Uh, yeah… Dean Winchester." He shakes hands with his possibly new, _hot _roommate with a weird ass name, but makes up for it by not only being attractive in appearance, but also having a voice _made _for sex.

"So," Cas starts, "would you like to come by and see the place first or… " He raises a brow in question, and Dean would totally be lying if he didn't think that looked adorable as hell.

Dean clears his throat before responding.

"Nah, it's fine. I'm a bit desperate right now so I'll take whatever I can get."

Castiel nods in understanding.

"Alright then. Here," he grabs a pen from the counter ("Hey! I need to write people's names with that!" "You don't even have any orders, you assbutt.") and a napkin and scribbles something swiftly before handing it over to Dean. "Here's my number. I'd rather you move in either around this week or next week, but just call when you'd like to start moving."

Dean takes the napkin and looks over it, silently memorizing the sequence of numbers.

"Yeah, alright. Thanks a lot, man."

Castiel gives a small smile in return and _shit_, it's probably the most beautiful thing Dean's ever seen in his life.

And okay, he admits it. He totally has a crush on this guy, which doesn't surprise Dean too much; he's been out of the closet for a while now. But damn, he's going to be living with him in a few days' time.

He's going to be living in the same home as Castiel, who's making him be a total teenage girl right now.

Well, shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **The Blind Astronaut

**Rating: **T for language

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any characters

**Wordcount: **2055

**A/N: **Just a short Sammy and Dean time (also, there's Jo)

* * *

II

"How can you always be happy," asked the stuffed kitten, "if you cannot see?"

The old sock puppet replied, "Because I may not have sight to see the wonders of this world, but I can hear the music."

"The music from Sally's piano?"

"No, child," the sock puppet replied, "the music all around us. It's playing, even now."

"But I can't hear anything other than the ticking of the clock."

The puppet replied, with it's blank, button eyes, "It's because you can only hear the music when a part of you comes undone."

-The Blind Astronaut

* * *

The bells above the door jingle as Dean exits the café, holding a napkin laden with a neat scrawl of numbers, a free cup of "you-helped-lessen-one-thing-my-bro-bitches-about" -coffee, and a stupidly, wide grin on his face that he should be trying harder to hide, but fuck that.

There's a sort of bounce to his steps as he softly hums Metallica, quiet enough so the bustling people won't hear (not that he's embarrassed to be any louder - he has one hell of an amazing voice, thank you very much) as he walks to his baby parked across the street.

He's still feeling giddy while driving home with the huge fucking grin super-glued on his face; silently thanking whatever god there is that creates small favors because he would be having a shit ton of "awww you like him"s and smug smirks from Sam, the little fucker, if he was here. Which he isn't. So Dean can have a whole ten minutes of wiping the dumb smile off his lips because Sam and Jess _so _don't need to see his fifteen-year-old-teenage-girl side.

By the time he swivels up to the five story apartment complex (which seriously needs a new paint job and cleaner halls - no _wonder _it was so cheap) he's pretty much composed himself. Which really, is a total overstatement because he still looks like he's shitting out rainbows and butterflies in the reflection of the glass doors (which were probably used as a canvas for baby spit and other crap that he doesn't want to ever find out).

Finding a place to stay _and _with an attractive guy, no less, has pretty much made his whole day, which is saying a lot since the last time something good happened to him lasted only for like, an hour at the most.

Of course, there's that little speck of fear that he's stubbornly shoved deep, deep_, deep _in the box of "don't fucking think about this, be happy for a second jesus fucking christ" that resides at the back of his head.

He's going to be living with someone he's stupidly gotten a crush on, and it goes to show just how much of a dumbass idgit he really is, in the words of the wise Bobby Singer. He doesn't even _know _the guy, other than the fact that he's one hell of a looker with a voice to match, and that his name is Castiel Milton, which really, is sort of a weird ass name.

The creak of the old door probably gives him away when he enters the small, cramped apartment. Sam looks up from his laptop at the living room table, a bemused expression on his face (which really just makes him look constipated), and Dean can't blame him. He's been able to hide most of his stupid grin, but Sam can read him like an open book and he probably has the same look on his face from that time in fourth grade when he won a goldfish, which died like a day later. It was a shitty pet anyway.

"Well, _someone's _happy."

Dean merely smirks and plops down next to Sam, shoving him in the arm with his elbow. "C'mon, Sammy, move your fat ass over a bit."

Ah, there it is, the all conspicuous bitch face. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam rolls his eyes and scoots over a seat, his eyes once more on the computer screen.

"Dude, you shouldn't be looking at porn while your girlfriend's out with her friends. That's pretty scandalous."

And voila, bitch face number two.

"Unlike you, I don't use the internet to look at barely clothed women so I can jerk off."

"Right."

Sam just huffs out an exasperated sigh because he's been living with Dean for the last 22 years of his life; of course he'd be used to Dean's immaturity.

"I was looking up some places you could stay at since you were so adamant about going off to 'find yourself.'"

Dean gives a snort and closes the laptop with a click.

"Hey! I actually found some good places." the look on Sam's face is pretty fucking hilarious.

"You don't need to do anything, Sammy," Dean leans back, swiping Sam's drink off the table. Ew, iced tea. "How the hell do you even drink this? It's just ice and sugar."

"Well, it's better than your crappy coffee." And okay, he has a point there. There's a reason why Dean goes out to Gabe's café when Sam or Jess don't put on a nice, hot pot of coffee in the mornings.

"And what do you mean I don't need to do anything? You should get all the help you can if you want to leave before term starts."

"Who do you take me for, Sammy?" Sam snorts in response, to which Dean punches him in the arm. Hard. The pained look on Sam's face is what he totally deserves. "It's not like I'm just going to sit around with my thumb up my ass. Why do you think I even left this morning?"

"I don't know; pick up some girls, try to get laid?"

Ouch. "Low blow, Sam." Sam just gives a not-very-conspiratorial-smirk. "And at least I actually get laid when I go searching for lonely ladies, unlike you." Now it's his turn to wear that grin. "You even sleep in the same bed, for christ's sake. What do you even do? Talk about the conservation of matter while geeking over crap together?"

Ah, bitch face number three. He's totally on a roll today.

"Anyway, I went to Gabe's place. Found a place to stay."

"You're shitting me."

"C'mon, Sammy, have some faith in the guy. "

"Did you bribe someone with your face."

"Dude, really?" Dean gives him a dubious look.

Sam just shrugs in reply, "Hey, it _is _you."

Wow. Okay. "Thanks Sam, I feel the love."

Sam, the little shit, snickers in reply. "Okay, so how'd you even manage to find a place? I doubt anyone would want to live with a messy ass like you."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean relaxes further back into the couch. "Gabe's younger brother needs a roommate because he apparently can't pay the whole rent." And shit, he's totally smiling, thinking about Cas. "He seems like a pretty nice guy, other than the fact that his name is Castiel. Who the fuck names their kid something like that? Seriously."

"Other than his parents? I don't know."

"Ha, very funny, Sasquatch." Sam just gives an unamused grimace at the nickname.

"So, you talk to the guy?"

"Yeah. He was conveniently there right when I was at the climax of my story."

"It's the abyss. Not climax."

"Yeah, whatever, nerd." Sam rolls his eyes. "Got his number too so I just need to make a call when I want to move over." And fuck, his smile's not going away, especially with the thought of living with Cas.

Sam either notices or is just being his sarcastic, shitty self (Dean's pretty sure it's the latter) when he says, "Huh, he might as well be hitting on you with his number." Which is obviously a joke, but Dean's dumb, paranoid brain decides to take things seriously.

"Nah, dude, it's nothing like that." He's pretty confident that he's said it slow enough that anyone else wouldn't have noticed the slight speed in his words. But Sam's a little shit (always was and always will be; although at least he was _cute _when he was younger while he was being his annoying, whiny, ass self) and has some form of x-ray vision in double HD solely to look into Dean's fucking soul.

A grin spreads on Sam's face as he processes his older brother's quick words.

"Dude, do you-"

"Whatever you're going to say, the answer is no." Well, might as well try to save himself.

"Oh my god, you totally do!"

"No, I 'totally don't' on whatever you're talking about. "

"Stop trying to hide it, Dean. You're totally smiling like that time you went out with Lisa and you thought the world was made up of sparkles and unicorns."

Well, fuck. "I barely _know _the guy, Sam." And it's true. He really doesn't. He just looks really adorable and has a hot voice.

"Well, now you can get to know him." Dean breathes a silent sigh of relief because, hey, if this is Sam giving him a thumbs up, at least it's not so bad. It could have been something really obnoxious.

"Both normally and in the biblical sense." Okay, yeah, scratch that.

Dean punches the same spot as before again and stands triumphantly as Sam gives a pained grunt.

"Well, I'm gonna go and hit the bar for a nice congratulatory drink because I won't have to see your ugly face anymore."

Aha, bitch face number four.

"And don't you dare say anything to Jess." He's not going to deny it anymore; not with Sam's fucking giant IMAX brain glitched on Dean's stupid grin.

Sam just smirks and Dean _knows _it's a lost cause. Not with Sam's big ass mouth.

He steps out the door, and turns around to face his annoying baby brother. "Oh yeah, Sam, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you."

He can hear Sam's obnoxious snickering through the thin walls as he heads for the stairs.

* * *

The bar is fairly empty, well, considering it _is _four in the afternoon. But it's a nice change from the usual hustle-bustle of people milling around, conspiratorially trying to rub against a shoulder, a hand, hell, even someone's ass.

The Roadhouse is a bit rundown from obvious age, but it's the best bar from miles around. Not too modern, but not too shrubby either.

Also, the owner's one of the greatest women Dean's ever met, aside from his mom. Ellen won't allow shit to happen in her bar, much like Bobby, his former boss and family friend, who owns Singer's Salvage Yard back in Kansas. Dean's pretty sure Ellen and Bobby would be the best of friends if they ever met.

"Winchester! Nice to see your face again." Also, Ellen's daughter is pretty cute too, although when compared to Cas, it's a no-go.

"Hey, Jo. How're you guys holdin' up?"

And wow. He seriously needs to stop thinking about Castiel 24/7. He's just the guy Dean's going to be living with. And the guy he has a crush on because he's one hell of a looker, which is pretty shallow, but he's known plenty of girls from high school who proclaimed they were in love with him, when it was really just to get in his pants. And okay, he admits, he's pretty ashamed that it actually worked. But hey, a guy's got to get laid.

"It's been pretty slow; nothin' much going on." Jo takes a seat next to him, snatching up his glass of beer and taking a huge gulp because as much as she's cute and like a little sister to him, she's still a real brat. "Well, other than the fact that Ash threw up all over some guy from laughing too hard. I think it had somethin' to do with gay porn."

Dean chokes on his drink at that, Jo merely stretching her arms nonchalantly.

"So, anything life-changing going on with your life?"

He composes himself, clearing his throat as he shrugs in reply and pours himself another glass of beer.

"I found a place to stay."

Jo arches a brow in surprise and disbelief. "Seriously?"

Fine, okay. Seems like disbelieving him when he actually gets shit done is the new thing now. "Is it really that hard to believe that I got off my ass and was productive for the day; because apparently it is."

Jo rolls her eyes at his brief rant, twisting around from side to side, stretching out her back. "Maybe if you got off your lazy ass every other day too, it would actually be believable."

"Says the person lagging off on the job."

"It's one of my special skills." Jo smirks and pours the rest of his beer into the glass, gulping down the last drops of his drink.

"Joanna Beth Harvelle, leave the poor boy alone and go wipe down the rest of those tables!"

"Well, Ma's callin'. Gotta go do the job." Dean receives a light slap on the back (which really isn't light at all because Jo's a little shit just like Sam) as she gets up from the seat, stalking away to finish her task.

"Congrats on your new place! Oh, and thanks for the drink." Okay, yup, she's definitely Lucifer's little minion or his lap dog or some shit because that smirk was literally the douchiest thing Dean has ever seen.

He looks towards Ellen, giving a slight nod for another bottle, when his phone vibrates in his pocket.


End file.
